Follow You Into the Dark
by GigaRose
Summary: Seeley Booth, an ex-FBI agent, who is in prison for a crime that he didn't commit. Or did he? Temperance Brennan, Forensic Anthropologist is asked to help wrap up his case as favor. But from who? Because he doesn't have very much time, before his trial. Booth and Brennan are going to struggle to figure out what is fact versus fiction. What is trust and what is attraction?
1. Chapter 1: Dark Discussion

**Follow You Into the Dark**

**Rated: **M

**Disclaimer: **Well seeing as I'm not wealthy and successful-yet. I can rule out that I'm Hart Hanson, and that I've got rights to Bones. Clearly I'm not, and I don't. Though I'm kicking myself for not thinking of the idea first...  
_

**Summary: **Seeley Booth, an ex-FBI agent, is in prison for a crime that he didn't commit. Or did he? Forensic Anthropologist Temperance Brennan, the world renowned is asked to help wrap up his case as favor. Because he doesn't have very much time, before his trial. What will happen when Brennan gets involved in Booth's case in hopes of bringing the truth to light?Once his story is revealed she begins to discover how much danger he has gotten himself involved in, and that his opponent is not deterred by prison walls.

Here Booth sat across the table in a worn out chair. The chair like so many others has lived to see one too many visitors come and go. In most circumstances these visitors only ended up being more troubled, and depressed than when they started. He didn't really want to think about why he was here, because when I happened all he got what a sad feel of disbelief. If it was he hoped everyday that he wasn't really there to stay.

It is mid-morning, and by the tone of the guards there must be a visitor. That will make the first one in all the time he's been here. How long has that been now? He can't seem to remember when it was that he officially came to his new Hell.

As the door to the room is opened I see her starts to come into the room, but she's still having words with someone. Booth felt a surge of disappointment as he took fill of her. She was not entirely what he expected, a tall, but thin woman whose strong facial features made her all the more interesting. He was too engrossed with seeing his saviour to take note in what she was dressed in except that she wore a scowl, and radiated pure discontent.

"I understand. But you don't have to show me all the way towards the inside of the visitation room, because I will the signs this facility has it would take a very keen ability to get lost." She said. Once the guard had brought Brennan to the visitors room, given her the list of rules and precautions, and told her she had a hour. She nodded a quick agreement silently hoping he would just leave her quickly, so that she could get along with this. She turned to the table, and made quick steps towards the man sitting across the room .

She sat down, and quickly began to take notice of his demeanor. She directed her gaze, and noticed his eyes- a questionable shade of reddish-brown were in fact directed towards hers as well. That was not in the profile that was given to her. In fact, she doubted whether the profile the FBI gave her about Seeley Booth was going to of any use to her, since she likes to make her own observations first and foremost before using information that was given to probably from some psychologist spouting nonsense. As she studied him through body language, Brennan realized that perhaps she was more interested than she'd originally thought she would be in this man. In the three months he had been in this prison he was still confident even to the point that he seemed to be overly cocky. It seemed that he hadn't allowed himself to be broken by the environment he now found himself. In only three minutes observation Temperance Brennan knew that unlike so many others, Seeley Booth was different.

He watched the way in which she'd entered the room. Tracking her movements. Cataloging her features, so that he could start to understand something about this strange new women before she got a chance to make her own impression about who she thought she was. He'd rather it if they were not meeting in this situation, but truth be told how could they have met any other way. He wasn't an unfriendly person at least that's what he thought of himself before, but he liked to think of himself as the type of person who like to keep to themselves.

Once she was settled across from him she could see the subtle change in his demeanor. His eyes which she noticed now had been on her since the instant that she arrived in the room, and had tracking her every step towards him. Once she was seated she also noted that his shoulders which had been rigidly in place before hand were now starting to look as though they would relax. Did he view here as an imminent threat? She mentally noted that she would have to test that hypothesis sometime in this rather short meeting. With a short and decisive breath she began with her first statement, "Mr. Booth I could readily assume that you know what I am her about, but that would be presumptuous. Do you understand that I am here to discussion legal matters with you?" she asks this with an edge to her voice as she begins to wait for whatever response he will gift upon her.

Booth believes she knows by now that he knows the only reason that anyone would come to visit him. A disgraced ex-FBI special agent that only has an utterly sullen reputation to hold to his name. Yes, he knew why she was here to see him. She was just like all the other people that came to "visit" him. They wanted to know his motivation, his every action, and they wanted to know how someone like him could possibly hurt so many women without such a ounce of remorse. But this was the reason that he hated, no he didn't hate these people he loathed them, because no matter how often he repeated himself one thing was key he had to proof to dislodge the evidence that only five months prior had destroyed what he knew as everyday life.

Finally Booth with a shake of his head decided to respond to her question.

"Well Ms.- taking a moment to squint at her visitation tag- Brennan", he sighed. "I've been asked that question as a matter of fact, so many times in the last year that I'd like to say no, but that would be a lie. For the record I don't lie, or better yet I don't prefer to lie because sticking to truth seems to get places a lot more quickly. So to answer your question. Yes, I do why you are here to see me. You want to know about the murders, and why I did it. Don't you? Well if you might want to introduce yourself, since I really don't know anything but your name"

She was struck with a deep realization that he was not like most people, so yes she was right to disregard the FBI profile because this man was going to be so much more that what a four page report said about him. She readied herself with an appropriate retort to his almost mocking response.

"Yes. Mr. Booth I am requiring more than a sufficient amount of information regarding the case of these murders from you. But if you must know I am the current forensic anthropologist assigned to this case. I'm working with the FBI in conjunction with the FBI. Does that ease your worries that we don't know each other at all? Because this method you are so well known for called, turning the tops on people won't have as much of successful operation on me as you would hope," she hoped that sounded as clever as she hoped it did.

Booth couldn't stop himself from chuckling a bit, "well for starters, no I don't intend to 'turn the tables' on you. I only hope that I could get a feel of whom it was I am talking to, since as you know you haven't been my only 'visitor'", Booth avoided cringing as he called what those people visitors, because they had been anything but visitors.

Those people had only one goal, and that was to hear him confess, to hear him finally admit to his crimes. But unlike them, and everyone else that knew about his case Booth knew there was nothing to tell them. Because he knew that he had not committed any such crime.

"I can't really believe that you wish actually know me Mr. Booth, but I can assure you that I don't associate myself with criminals; however seeing as you have not been convicted yet I can stand to tell you about why I am here. I work with remains of those who otherwise would never the chance to finally be put to rest. I've been asked to assist the FBI with your case, because unbeknownst to you there are still have people there who would like to think that what has happen this past year was not true."

Booth smirked a bit. So she wasn't too sure about this case either. Great, that made only one other person that could stand to think he didn't do it, because the other was himself.

"Ms. Brennn-" he was cut short as he saw her brow furrow with what he could only pinpoint as annoyance.

"It's Doctor Brennan," she said this in a concise enough manner that would could only be interpreted that she truly meant business.

" Well Dr. Brennan," he punctuated this just to get a rile out of this almost stoic women. I've been in this god forsaken prison all of three months under the presidence that I've committed the ultimate act of evil- murder. But I can say for what seems to be the millionth time that under no circumstances did I murder those people." his voice almost seemed to peak as his eyes finally gave her a glimpse of how tired he must be. Her suspicions were rising.

Booth was getting testy. How long was he going to have to repeat himself before anyone thought he was telling any semblance of the truth. The silence that followed his retort seemed to stretch only a few seconds, but he knew that in reality it could be minutes. He was used to waiting. That's all he really got to do these days.

She was just about to state that she was going to take a different approach to his case, but she'd begun to notice that although he was a confident man he was just like another man. He had continually drummed his fingers along the edge of the table as if testing her ability to stay calm.

She was frustrated because he was getting more difficult to follow as their first visit progressed. This was not how she thought this was supposed to go. She had been foolish to think that she could make this man tell her anything useful in only an hours time. Closing her and taking a deep breathe she decided that this would not happen again. She would make sure that by the next time that she saw Seeley Booth she would be more than prepared to deal with his quick witted responses, and table turning.

"I hope you have been able to enjoy our discussion Mr. Booth. My watch says that the hour that was graciously provided to me has run out finally," Brennan gathered her bag, and began to get up from the table. She hoped that he realized that unlike all the others that had come before her she would not just leave because he was being difficult. She was used to doing things the hard way. She doesn't know why, but just looking at him she knows that she can't just leave him without finding out the truth.

He deserves at least that much of her time.

"What is it Mr. Booth? Is there something else that you wish to tell me before I leave?"

"The next time you come in could you please refer to me as Booth. Mr. Booth was my father." Booth knew that his statement was presumptous, but he had found this time with her had been the most interesting thing that had happened in a long time. She was interesting.

" Assuming that you are still here when I get back, then I'll try to keep that in mind. Booth" Brennan said with a slight nod before she walked back through the visitors door.

He just waited for someone to take him back to his cell, because it would feel as though he would have to wait forever to see this woman again. This Dr. Brennan.

Booth would have to take her word that she would come back to see him. Because it had been a long time ago that he had given up on hoping, and even longer that he had stopped praying for things to happen.

All he had to do was wait for the brilliant doctor to come again.

**A/N: So...more these are familiar faces. It seems like Booth has definitely gotten himself into some type of mess... murder? ::scratches head::**

Still intrigued? Well, this story is a different take on the good old Booth and Brennan duo.

I really need to know what you people think of this so far. So take some time to review. You know that button. The one that all the authors are trying to get you to use. Just a simple sentence helps here, and there.

Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2: Dark Eyes & Intentions

**Definitely going to apologize for the grammar mistakes. I don't know why I keep making the same mistakes. I'm usually so frustrated when others do this, but typing at 3AM is not a good idea. No matter how awake my insomnia ridden brain thinks it is. I just need an editor, since clearly I suck at voicing my story. ***** Sorry for the mini-self loathing. I'm just getting frustrated with myself.**

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**Booth**

I was a law enforcement officer. It was my very job that got me into this situation I damn well know it. How could I really avoid the police questioning me? As if with every question asked they really wanted to know how I could decieve them. The eyes that looked at me swam with hate. Hate of such a cruel person. A man that could easily kill each woman that had ever meant anything to him. Could tear apart those poor women without guilt, regret, or remorse.

But as I have done daily I paced my "room" I began thinking about those women: Tessa, Catherine, Rebecca, and the last probably painful relationship... Hannah. It felt strange and almost untrue when I heard it the first time the police came to my door. It always felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. I lifetime ago that I had gotten home from my latest game of pool. I can still remember feeling so lucky because I'd recovered the eight hundred dollars I had lost two weeks prior. Thinking back about it I can remember only wanting to feel something. Feel something other than the weight on my shoulders. I go into these pool halls mostly wanting to live someone else's life. While at the pool hall I don't necessarily have to Special Agent Booth. No I can be just SJ. Someone that happened to have good and bad days in the pool hall.

These times where I can become something else. A person that didn't have his bones ache constantly. This person didn't feel icy, or lonely but inside warm inside. My creation of SJ didn't have the option to feel tired and old. This was my chance to separate myself from everything I hated about my life. This is why I grew to like it when SJ won.

That night the police had come to the apartment, and told me the news. They told me how each of these women I had dated had been missing for varying lengths of time. When a tip off told them to send a search effort to the Dupont Forest in Pennsylvania they had immediately jumped at the opportunity. It had been a long, and tiresome search for these women. Although when a young analyst stumbled upon an unmarked cave more agents flooded the area. Caves are usually the best bet to find missing persons, and even better locations when they happened to be unmarked. It took a small measure of time between one to two hours, and when the bodies were found...thankfully the agents didn't go into much detail. Although I could imagine with what they did say that I'd be better off not knowing the specifics. I knew they had already begun to suspect me. How could they not. It was blatantly obvious that I knew all the victims. Intimately. Every minute that passed I felt as though I were on fire. I felt sick, and a melting feeling was beginning to set in on my mind. How could I have not known that they were missing? I wasn't sure when but I began to move and ended up stumbling over to chair in order to make it to the couch. I can remember how I struggled to take as many deep breathes as I possibly could.

They had said that they were just informing me, but I knew better. They said that they were only here to remind me that I shouldn't try to leave the area, I'd hear that time and again. Did they forget I was part of the FBI. They told me they would have to question me. But from the looks of them I could see that they were lying. There could no mistaking the accusation in their eyes. How could all of the women die without ever having met each other. I was the only connection that would link one women to the next. I can recall reassuring the agents that there was no reason for me to leave, and about twenty minutes later I was thankful that I could see them out the door. That had been when my everyday life had ceased to exist. My run as special Agent Booth the guy with all the luck had ended. This was the night that I knew I was in deep shit.

I'm getting tired of pacing around the "room", so I've taken out my log and begun sketching again. I don't realize it, but I'm drifting back to that woman again. Dr. Brennan. But it's only fleeting because my mind replays the months were those investigator's, and their squinty scientists had apparently found evidence to prove I'd been the last person to see each of these women. Their families could account for that. I don't understand how that was enough to put me into jail. I've been working for the FBI for three and half years, and only if they had something they could shared publicly would they be able to detain him. This was also the moment I realized that they thought I was a flight risk. A man whose failed family and continually failed relationships had only flamed a need to control control them in every aspect. Those had been the words that echoed through the court room, as the other lawyer spewed a speech of how much of a monster I was. So of course the FBI had to save face, and decided that in order to prevent me from ever leaving keeping me locked up would help. It's sad that I still remember the counselor's words. How the jury sucked up each and every word. All of my work to do good, and be a decent man was useless. If I don't find out what is going on, and who was behind this I'm going to end up a deadman sooner or later.

* * *

**Brennan**

I'd rather fail every time, then know that I had never tried to find out what had apparently made Booth "lose his marbles". Brennan had never been one for an easy life, and after I meeting with Booth I can only think that my view of him still needs to be justified. I couldn't pin point the irrational feeling of his innocence. I had the evidence and reports that proved in some way or another that he had been involved with those women's deaths. But I think that through a more thorough search of any and all information of anything and everything related to Booth, and my security clearance and favors I'll definitely have a better sense of his character.

Moving over to my bag and taking out the profile that Dr. Sweets provided, and I began to review it once more.

As I started unfortunately the greeting wasn't as pleasant as I had hoped. As I was assaulted with at least six different photographs each with differing time frames. I decided to save those for later, and began reading about his early life. By carefully assessing of the individual characteristics sheet I note that Booth is only five years older than me, and genetics had been so very much in his favor physically. But his early life in this report was not so lucky. He had grown up is a less than productive environment. In his profile notes of his father as abusive were noted, and I remembered the photos. Rooting through the papers I had already read I saw the first one that I had initially barely glanced. In this one I'm seeing him at age thirteen, but his thin yet tall frame was cringing making him look younger. This photograph hadn't thought to try and comfort him most likely because he was from a police station, and this boy was his evidence why would he think that taking photos of his bruised body bother him. Booth's young body was dotted with bruises. Some were evolving to and would eventually become black, and others seemed to passing as they smoothed into a yellowed white. From somewhere I could only assume the back of his head I can see where he had been struck. The evidence was clear since his right arm and hand were smeared. Probably where he had raised to cover himself. In the center of my abdomen I felt a churning feeling, and can only describe it as a slick unpleasant feeling. But why would this cause me so much unease when I work daily with victims that seem to be in far worse conditions. What strikes me the most is his eyes. The same eyes that I can say transfixed me only days ago were again breathe taking, and insightful. Regardless of my belief of the human soul, I know that so much evidence can be interpreted through them. Although I know that my ability to readily interpret such information is limited I think that I can interpret a hint of bravery as this boy locked eyes with the camera, yet also a sense of defeat. Maybe because now like so many others he knew others could see that he couldn't protect himself.

An hour later as I continued to read, and review the photographs. Jumping from when he was sixteen and his grandfather intervened keeping him at his home where Booth continued to live until his eighteenth birthday. A notation showed that he attended Penn State for a year, and joined the army shortly after his second semester concluded. From there no new information presented it self. It was like his life was entirely blank until he was twenty two. He remained part of the army for two tours, and then came back to Penn State to finish his degree in Criminal Justice. From then on he graduated, and I saw that he immediately trained to became an agent of the FBI. This is where is life just seemed to be plain, and almost as if he didn't want to be noticed at all. He in a way was like her, content with his work, but looking for some way that would spark some life into his existence.

I decided that I needed to exit the apartment, so I quickly made my way to the car. Taking his time to take out my phone to make a call to the prison. I was going to need to find out a lot more about Booth but via the man himself.

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**Inspired by:**

**General Ghost: If Then **

**Thriving Ivory: Run**

A/N: _Reviews are going to helps with the next chapter. _


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